Mum & Dad

What I first remember at age around 10 years, that made quite an impression on me, was my Dad speaking to my Mum: “Well, I passed my A-1”.  This big Irishman looking so pleased with himself. He was going to war, the ‘Second World War”.  The ‘war, as was said, to end all wars’. What a hope…!

Newspaper Clipping (right):

Charles Luen was born in Belfast on the 8th February 1906. He married Gladys May Gurney, from Luton, the daughter of Isaac and Hephzibah Gurney. 

Both members of the Salvation Army, they were married at the Park Street Army Temple in Luton on the 4th October 1931.

After Dad went away we knew poverty.  We were not unhappy as we had a wonderful, loving mother.

A warm, blue-eyed lady; kind and sweet, she taught us well.  She cooked, she cleaned, she sewed, she taught us to pray and be thankful and thoughtful towards others.

How she managed to feed us in those years I’ll never know.  I remember rabbit stew and Pig’s trotters.  Food was rationed – once the coupons you had been allocated were finished, that was it…!  

One could always buy fish & chips if you had the money though – two pennies could get a small packet of chips, half a penny would get you a big carrot or a bread roll.

Sometimes we didn’t have money to pay our house rent and, when the rent collector came, we would all hide under the table and stay there until he went away.  It was silly really as we always had to pay eventually, so it was twice as hard later on.

The Luen Children

We were six children. I was the eldest (Joan Ruth Luen), followed by Lawrence Charles, Hazel Maureen, Olive, Michael Patrick, and Robert Stuart.  Lawrence was named after Dad (Charles) – the first son and only 11 months younger than me. 

We were very close growing up; never angry with one another like some kids today. There was always harmony between us.

But we each had our own friends and playmates. My friends were the twins Brenda and Thelma.

I wonder sometimes now that I’m in my 80’s where they are. What happened to them after we left school?  

Brenda got a job in a sweet shop after the war and I would meet her in my lunchtime as I worked at a Furrier’s Fur Shop. 

She would give me coconut ice sweets.  What a treat, without the rations.

The war was very bad. We kept a huge map on our dining-room wall and pinned little flags on spots where our dad was supposed to be. 

Dad wrote lots of long letters with lots of ‘cut-out bits’ where they had been censored, but he was a real romantic Irishman. 

He described everything he was doing and Mum would read these letters to us over and over, as we sat at her feet, but she kept her special bits to herself.  Dad had leave for seven days at a time – I don’t know why it was always seven days.

These were always good times because we always seemed to have more when he was around. Then he would go away again and it all became empty once more.  We had a lot of bombing around Luton where we lived.  

The Air-raid warning would sound – everything was pitch dark, for all the windows were covered in dark curtains (so no light would show) and we would all rush into the Bomb Shelter underground. 

We all had to have a shelter in our gardens – a big hole in the ground covered with corrugated iron, covered with sandbags.

The photograph alongside shows Hazel, Lawrence and Joan sitting on top of the shelter in our back yard.

We would furnish the inside how we liked (or could afford) with stretched-beds, blankets, matches and a lantern or candles. 

Sometimes we would stay underground for hours while the planes flew overhead dropping their bombs; the earth around us shuddering.

Sometimes it was raining or snowing and the wet would come streaming into the shelter, adding to our misery. Then, when it was over, we would come up and go about our lives, going to school wearing our gas masks over our shoulders, looking around to see whose house had been hit … “who ‘got it’ today” was what we heard. 

Sometimes the planes came while we were in school and we were all marched to our school shelter. 

That was worse because you could be there all day, sitting on long wooden benches, singing ‘pack up your troubles I your old kit bag’ and such.  

Not knowing if your Mum was OK, or the young ones.

Our little sister Olive (here on the left) got sick because of the damp running back & forth to the shelter and got Diphtheria.  

The doctor was called, but took his time in getting to our house because he was an old man. The young ones had all been called-up to fight. The doctor was not able to cure Olive and she died.  

She was about four years old.

Mum was expecting Michael at the time. Dad got leave for the funeral and it was a very sad time.  Hazel and I were sent to Aunty Winnie (Mum’s sister) to give our Mum a break before the birth.

Some early photos of the Luen kids (Gladys & Lawrence and Joan, Hazel & Lawrence):

My Calling

I wasn’t happy to leave her, although Aunty Winnie was kind. One Sunday, as was usual, we went to Church - the Salvation Army Church.  

Here is a photograph of our mother (far right) in later years, wearing her Salvation Army uniform & bonnet, collecting knitted goods to give to the poor.

Anyway, it was a ‘Sunday School Sunday’ and all the children sat on the stage, a big platform. We all took part in the service and all sat on little chairs.

At the end of the service the preacher made an appeal for anyone to come forward and pray if they wanted the Lord in their lives.  I wasn’t taking much notice, only wishing it was time to go home and have lunch (always hungry during the war years!), when a man came forward, very upset and crying.

I’d never seen a man cry before and was very disturbed by this and I whispered to my elder cousin “what’s the matter? Why is he crying?” 

She ‘shushed’ me a couple of times and after the service she explained that the man was sorry for all the bad things he had done in his life and had come forward for prayer to ask Jesus to forgive him.

This made such an impression on me that I felt - at that moment - that I wanted my own forgiveness too.  

So when we got back home to Mum, I told her and the following Sunday she took me to the Salvation Army service. 

I went forward and gave my life to Jesus.

My Sunday School teacher Amy Warsly, who had been my mother's bridesmaid, prayed with me and I knew in my child’s heart that I belonged to HIM, HE had my life.  Oh, I went my own way, I was a normal kid … BUT (and there are a lot of ‘buts’ in my life) … my life was in HIS hands.

Grandparents Endersby

After Olive died, we kids often went to the cemetery to visit her and we stole flowers from the other graves to place on her grave. We didn’t think it was wrong – we just wanted her to know we had been there and thought of her.

We were playing outside one day - in April.  I remember Mum coming out to the gate with soapsuds up her arms as she had been doing the washing. No machines in those days.

“Joan” she called and I came running. She put her arms around me, gave me a kiss and said: “it’s your birthday ducky. Happy Birthday.”  I just felt good. No gifts, nothing, but it was something that I had a Mum. 

So many memories I guess when you’re old. Your mind goes back to childhood. Standing still and quiet in a Bluebell wood, the tall green trees, the clouds of blue, blue flowers that stopped you breathing; the breeze rustling the leaves, the birds twittering, standing alone in awe….

The vegetable allotment that Grandpa kept and he wondering where all his peas had gone.  Did he know that the kids had stolen them, leaving the pods behind?

We were told that our Great Grandmother Endersby had outlived three husbands and she was Jewish.  I went to her cottage (with my grandmother Elizabeth and my mother) just before she died. 

She had a beautiful little cottage, double-story, in a tiny village in England called Biggleswade.  It was huge in my eyes - double bed with snow-white sheets.

Although she was dying, an old gentleman with a walking stick came to visit her every day.  

I was told that she was 100 years old when she went to heaven, but I can’t prove that.  

She was very old with snow-white hair and sometimes, as I glance in a mirror these days, I see her in myself, as I do my mother and grandmother.

Newspaper Clipping (right):


Joan's grandparents, the Gurneys, were fortunate enough to celebrate their 60-year wedding anniversary and therefore received a letter from the Palace congratulating them.

This was unusual enough to have been recorded in the local newspaper.

The same grandfather who's peas were removed by his beloved grandchildren!

School in Luton

Clothes were not easy to come-by in the war years, not like today when children can go and choose whatever they fancy - and have the money to do so!

We would go to a big old Hall and scratch through stuff sent out to England from Canada.  It was a kind of Aid. At one time I got two jerseys, one maroon and the other orange.  I hated them - wore the first one week, the second the next; one in the wash, the other out.  And this under a navy jumpsuit!

I always wished I could be like the girl in my class, an only child called Jane, who we thought of as ‘posh’.  She had nice clothes and was clean, but she had a glass eye, which she took out now and again to prove something.

There was also a boy in my class who chased me home now and again. I was really afraid of him and don’t have a clue what he would have done had he caught me.  Looking back, I can’t understand what made me run from him, whereas I would fight tooth & nail at anyone who looked twice at my siblings! Even today, they tell stories of my daring - most embellishment I’m sure.

At twelve years old I decided that I wanted to take up ballet. The classes were two shillings and sixpence; Saturday mornings - Ballet and Tap classes - a long way into town.  After some time they put on a show. 

I was in ‘Hornpipe’ a Tap dance. I had to have a white, satin, pleated skirt and a sailor’s collar.  To this day I don’t know how my mother got the material, the cotton, the shoes, etc. but I took part in that show.

It was the last of my lessons or dancing ambitions.

Home in Luton

Background:

In 2012 Joan visited her sister Hazel, now resident in Windsor. 

The two went on a 'trip down memory lane' and can be seen here outside their original home in Luton, where they grew up, went to school and saw-out the second World War.

Fair to say it has seen quite a bit of improvement in the years since, but the structure is still the same!

In winter we had to keep a fire burning to keep warm. We also had to stoke the ‘huge Copper’ in the kitchen, in which the clothes were washed.  We still had gaslight for the lights. Am I that old?

We also had to buy coal, which was on rations. As the eldest, it was my job to take the baby’s pram a long way (a kilometer at least) to the wood yard and buy a pram-load of logs.  Being a skinny kid it was a hard job pushing that load home. Going there with an empty pram was all down hill, but coming back (especially if there was snow), you would push forward two steps, slip back four!  Oh my, but with determination, sweat and tears, you got home to lots of praise from Mum.  Looking back, I thrived on Mum saying: “You’re a good girl.”

On a Friday we got the recharged accumulator - the battery for the radio. We loved to Children’s Hour, the News and a show called ‘Itma” ('It's that man again'). 

It was funny wisecracks - we didn’t know what half the wisecracks were about, but they made us laugh.  

Then, on Sundays we listened to Vera Lyn singing ‘Keep smiling through.’

One day when Dad was on leave (it was Christmas and very cold), he took my small, cold hand in his big, warm one and said: “let’s get ourselves a chicken for Christmas.”

I hadn’t a clue where we would find such a luxury, but we ended-up in a butcher’s shop full of Jewish customers. The place was full with a lot going on around us. There were chickens hanging from a long rod, all still with their feathers. 

I don’t know what happened but before you could say ‘Jack Robinson’ we were on our way home with a naked chicken. We had a Christmas Tree too that year.  Do kids today appreciate what we did then?

I learned quickly how to cook, as Mum was often ill.  I knew how to skin a rabbit and cook it - and to make apple pies when we had ingredients.  I love to cook and had lessons in school.

Once we made ‘stuffed potatoes’ and I made a lot more than the other kids. The teacher looked at my work and said: “you pig”, because I’d made my potatoes go further.  I did so because we were allowed to take our efforts home and I had five others to feed at home.  I was so hurt by that. 

I also knew how to scrub Linoleum floors, do the washing, iron with a flat, heavy iron that was made hot on the gas stove.  We had two, one getting hot on the stove, the other being used.

We had a big old zinc bath that hung outside on a nail. On Saturdays it was brought inside and placed in front of the fire. Lots of water was heated and ‘Bath Night’ began. 

The littlest ones went first, then the next, the bath being topped-up after each scrubbing. Being the eldest, I was last.

To this day I love my bath, but get in and out quickly.  I think it is because my mother was tired out by my turn and I was told to hurry.  Later, when we were older, we bathed in private, standing in a large basin in the kitchen.

Back from War

When the war was over there were big fires in the street, with people and children singing and dancing. Where not long before had been hundreds of trucks full of weary-looking soldiers, rumbling along the roads, now people were rejoicing.

Then we were told to wash and get dressed as Daddy was coming home for good. He had been stationed on the island of St. Helena for the last part of the war. We waited at the end of the street. And waited. We were used to waiting – throughout the war years we stood in line and waited.

Then we saw him marching up the road in his uniform, Kitbag in one hand and a huge bunch of bananas on his shoulder. We were overjoyed.  Inside the Kitbag were all kinds of gifts - a kind of wooden game for the boys and a necklace made from seeds for Hazel and I; smelling all strange, but exciting.

Then we had to get used to him being around again.  It was difficult as we had our own ways of doing things and we were more grown-up. To our eyes he was bossing us around and it took some getting used to.

Then it was time for me to leave school and go out to work. I wasn’t given a choice I went where the work was and on my 14^th birthday was apprenticed to a Furrier. 

I swept floors, made tea, ran to the shop next door to get sandwiches for the staff, learned how to dress windows with furs, vacuumed the showroom and was taught how to make, repair and clean the furs.

The old lady who taught me all this (I don’t remember her name) told me that she had been the one who stitched-up all the little black ermine tails on the white robes of the royal family for the coronations.

I was quite happy doing this and was paid the princely sum of £1-2/6.  Later on I was to earn £2-2/6 and my Dad said: “you will pay your mother the £2. You may keep the 2/6 and buy your own clothes.”

Looking back I can see that Dad couldn’t handle money, but certainly knew how to use Hazel’s and my money.  He wasn’t unkind in any way, just … couldn’t care, or ignorant? Or perhaps he thought he knew best.

South Africa

When I was 15 years old, Dad decided that we should all emigrate to South Africa. I had just discovered boys and my life had just started!  

I was wearing lipstick and ‘Ponds Vanishing Cream’ and ‘Evening in Paris’ perfume.

I had my hair permed on an old-fashioned machine with long wires coming out of a huge bonnet. It was like going to the electric chair. 

My other twin friend Thelma was an apprentice at the Hairdresser and needed someone to practice on. 

It took hours to do and the smell was too awful, but the end result was, in my eyes, well worth the effort.

Anyway, Dad got a job in South Africa, found for him by the Bandmaster of the Salvation Army Band. He also arranged accommodation for Dad. So, once again he left us alone for six months while he got settled.

Then my dear mother had to sell all our household goods and chattels, all except Grandmother’s feather bed.  And we all got new clothes and our tickets.

With many ‘teas & broken hearts’ we first boarded the train to the port and then onto the ‘Arundel Castle’.  

It had been a troop ship with huge cabins, which to my eyes appeared to contain hundreds of double bunks.  Women and children were berthed in one, men and boys in another. My brother Lawrence had to go with the men.  

I don’t remember the cost of the fare but Mum found it!

Oh it was so lovely.  We got so seasick after the first day as we ate so much … we had never seen so much great food, or so many different kinds. 

But then the tables seemed to go up & down with the ocean swaying.

We soon got over that and enjoyed it all. We made lots of friends on the ship - other people emigrating like us, going to a strange new land ‘full of sunshine and plenty!’

I met a girl much older than me (I don’t remember her name), she was 19 and had also been working overseas before. She soon took me in hand and taught me to shave under my arms and my legs; also, how to put on lipstick and use deodorant, which I’d never done so before. Now I was all grown up!

She tried to get me to smoke as well, but that didn’t appeal to me.

After we had been on the ship for about three weeks (I can’t remember much else about the trip!), we arrived in Madeira.  

Little boys came out to our big ship in their little boats and would dive into the water for money, which passengers threw into the sea for them.

Some of us also boarded a small motorboat and went onto the island.  We saw how the local women had made the most beautiful embroidered clothes.  There seemed to be flowers everywhere and it was very ‘hilly’.  The people were all brown and very happy-looking.

When we arrived in Cape Town, ‘Sunny South Africa’ was full of fog and rain, with lots of black men running around here and there. It was dismal and I wondered what we had come to.

Once through Customs, which took forever, we were met by a Salvation Army officer, who then took us to an ‘Army’ Hotel. Here we stayed for two days.  They took care of us and were so kind.

Also there was a very nice man on holiday there. He had just lost his wife, or something sad. But he gave each of us five kids 2/6 to spend.  We ran down the street to the first sweet shop we could find and then spent an age deciding what to buy. We didn’t spend it all, because it seemed like a fortune at the time.

The Luens in Port Elizabeth

Then we were put on the train to Port Elizabeth.  A two-day journey I think, it was very hot and we thought we would never arrive. 

When we did, we were met by our Dad and friends, all talking at once – we couldn’t understand a word they uttered, nor they us, I reckon.  

The house was made of wood and iron. It had three bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom and lounge; very little furniture, but clean and the ladies from the Salvation Army church had made us lunch! 

They all looked so pleased to see us and gave us such a warm welcome. They were glad to have us.

There was also an outside toilet in a little yard and a front garden with a grass patch and even some lilies flowering under a tap.  They seemed to bloom forever while we stayed there.

Mum thought it was wonderful because a niece of hers had married shortly before we left England and had paid 10 Shillings per bloom for the same lilies and here we were growing them in our garden!

After getting settled into our new surroundings we were given a welcome meeting at the Salvation Army church on the Saturday evening.  We were quite a large family, Mother, Father and five healthy children.  Of course, I didn’t consider myself a child any more. Nor Lawrence.

I looked around the congregation to see if there were any boys.  Only one of my age - his name was Clarence. We were having tea and cakes when ‘Clarry’ was introduced to me.  He was eating a cream bun and he had just had all his teeth out!  What had my father brought us to!

Next, both Lawrence and I were put to work - Lawrence as an apprentice ‘painter & decorator’ and I to a shop as an assistant in the Make-up Department where I was trained to sell ‘Lancôme’.and other expensive products.

I had a good English complexion, which was good for business.  I had lots of boy friends, whose company I enjoyed. In those days we would take a tram to the beach and spend the day there, or sometimes we would go in a group to see a film.

I bought my first bathing costume for four Shillings I think.  It was made of green shriveled elastic and I thought I was the Queen Bee.  I never learned to swim, however and even to this day I cannot swim.

I had been thinking for the whole first month that I would buy a small tin of peaches and a tin of cream with my first month’s pay. We had never had such luxuries during the war years, so I would dream of those golden peaches.

I think I paid 9 pence or something for them, then took them home and stood in the kitchen with the tin opener and, as quietly as possible, opened the tin with spoon in hand.

I was about to take my first mouthful when I sensed someone behind me. I turned and found all my siblings gazing at me … what could I do but share my treat with them!  

I’ve had plenty of chances since then of eating a full tin, but the desire has gone and never been fulfilled.

Arthur Engelbrecht

I met Arthur Engelbrecht when I was 17 years old and fell in love with this tall, blue-eyed, Afrikaans speaking man. He was called-up at 18 to do ‘compulsory military service’. He wrote to me nearly every single day.

We missed each other. His father had left his mother before he was born and then she died when he was very young.  She had a blood clot on the brain. He was brought up by his old grandmother and grandpa, a very big man - they were kindly, good folk.  I was at the old man’s bedside when he died.

In one of his letters, Arthur wrote to me and said: “I’m asking you, dearest darling girl, to marry me.”  I’m sorry now that I didn’t keep that letter. I wonder what became of it.

We were married in the Salvation Army when I was 18 years old. We had no money, no place to stay and we borrowed a car to go on honeymoon to East London (to his Aunt, who was on the brink of a divorce).

We stayed a week and then came home and hired a caravan to live in.  Later we moved to a room with another Aunt, paying full board of course. No one gave us anything except for the grandmother, who gave us an old chest.

This we cleaned and polished and used to keep blankets and tablecloths that I had embroidered and other little things. We gradually bought furniture and built up a little home.

Then, when my Mum & Dad moved from the little wooden house, we rented it and that became our first home together. We were so happy.  Arthur worked as a welder and I was a shop assistant. 

We had been married for three years when Arthur bought a motorcycle - a big maroon machine. We went all over the place in it.  In those years I used to long for a child, but I had a miscarriage at three months. 

My brother Lawrence wanted to spread his wings at 20 years old. He moved to Johannesburg, found work and seemed happy.  I had just turned 21 and found I was pregnant.  The whole family was so happy.

Arthur, hearing how well Lawrence was doing in Johannesburg, decided that, with a baby coming, he would try to get a better job.  So, just before Easter 1955, he left home for Johannesburg on his bike.

He would meet up with Lawrence (right), go to some job interviews and then bring Lawrence home for Easter.  I missed him so much.  My brother Robert came to stay with me while Arthur was away. 

I kept having the strangest dreams - there was always a crowd of people, all ages and sexes; all dressed differently and they were walking in a line, slowly.

I tried to join in but was prevented from doing so. Then I would awake feeling so distressed.  One afternoon I was resting with my hand on my tummy when I felt my baby move for the first time. It was so unexpected. My first thought was: “I must tell Arthur, he will be pleased.”

But that night, the worst thing happened. We were woken in the early morning. It was dark outside. I got up hearing the knock, thinking it was Arthur, but my Mum and Dad stood there weeping.  My mother said: “there’s been an accident. Laurie. Laurie…”

I said: “Arthur?”  “He’s dead also.”

They took me to their home. It was Easter morning and we were singing: “Up from the grave he arose,” because this was the day Jesus arose, but our hearts were broken.

No one knows such pain if you have not experienced it.

The sun was shining; people were going about their usual business; it was a holiday - but not for us.  My Dad had to go and identify the bodies and he took care of the financial arrangements.

It all seems so vague now. I remember standing at the graveside and dropping a rose and saying in Afrikaans: “Goodbye Sweetheart,” then going home to my parents’ house.  

They made me a bed in their room and the doctor gave me sleeping pills.

Days passed and then one day the doorbell rang and Mum and I went to answer it.  It was the Railway delivery, a parcel of Arthur’s and Lawrence’s belongings.

We sat on the floor for two hours looking at these bloodstained clothes and amongst them was a telegraph to me that we never received. It said simply: “Arrived safely with Laurie.” We got comfort from that.

Arthur had arranged life insurance (£2.000), but it took ages to come to me.  I was ignorant of the workings of the law.  We also had two plots of land, but they were not paid-up.

Someone should have advised me what to do with my money and the land, but Dad encouraged me to get the money right away.  I put it in the bank but drew out enough to pay my mother ‘Board’ as I had been taught to do.

Then one day my Dad asked me for money to buy a truck, as he wanted to start his own business.  “You, he said to me, will be my silent partner.”  Wanting to please him, I gave him the cash, not leaving much left.

He got the truck and started his own business, but I never again saw any money return to me.  I still paid ‘Board & Lodging’ in the mean time.

My baby grew inside of me, but I cried a lot and felt so alone. It rained a lot too and that worried me, thinking Arthur and Lawrence in the ground would be all wet.  I now know that they were not there, but in a safer place.

On the bus one Sunday with my Mum, going to church, my waters broke and my baby was coming. 

So we stayed on the bus and went back home, phoned the doctor, who told us to go to hospital.

 

I had no idea what lay before me; hours of painful labour, other girls coming into the ward screaming and moaning, but my pain kept coming … but still no baby. 

At last, the second day, after such a long time, my 9lbs son - Arthur - was born.

Everything changed from then on. He was perfect, beautiful and very good.  I didn’t need a sleeping pill any more. No more tears. 

Even though we were in a 10-bed ward and the other mothers had their husbands, I was not alone. 

My son was everything to my Mum, my Dad and me.

William Stevenson

One day a young Salvation Army officer was visiting some of the people in the hospital. He was led to give me a pastoral visit too. 

He came and visited and prayed with me and we realized that we had met the first week I was in the country.

He was then on holiday from Johannesburg and took Hazel and I for an ice cream. 

He had said: “write to me” and I said I would, but I never did, as I was ashamed of my spelling. 

My education had been poor because most of my school time was taken up with sitting in Air-raid shelters, singing: “Pack up your troubles in your old Kit-bag” and staying home from school to look after my sick mother.

However, ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform’ and there in the hospital was this handsome young, blue-eyed man visiting me and asking right there, if he could visit me again when I got home.

He had only recently broken-off his engagement to a lady called Alma, whom I did not know. And so our friendship started.  At first I thought he was just a Pastor visiting a parishioner, but then it became something else. He used to like holding my son and he was very kind.

We used to spend a lot of time talking and he would bring records, which we would listen to. One special record was called ‘Little things mean a lot’. I know lots of folk would think it was quick, but both of us had lost someone we loved and both needed comfort, so we fell in love.

An officer at the Salvation Army in those days could not marry another person unless the other person was trained in the college of the Salvation Army.  If not, they would have to lose their rank, or leave the work. So we were on dangerous ground!

But one day William Henry Stevenson asked me to marry him and I said yes.

Then I spent the night praying that I had made the right decision. When I awoke the next morning, I looked into the Bible to find the answers to my prayer.  This is what the Scriptures said from Revelations 3-8: “I know your works. See, I have set before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength.”

This was the way I had to go, so I made an application to go to the Salvation Army College for Officer Training. The current session had been going for three months already, but I was accepted right away.

My parents took care of my son for that time - the hardest part was leaving him. Then, after my time at the college, where I learned so much in such a short time, I came out to be appointed to a small church, to assist for three months.

In all that time William and I wrote to each other every day. He was still running the church in Port Elizabeth, while I was in Johannesburg first, then Cape Town.  I had been in the Salvation Army College for officers for three months and was appointed ‘pro-tem’ to assist Lieutenant Ursula Wyatt at the 'Mutton Bone' Corps in Goodwood.

I left Johannesburg and, in my Army uniform and bonnet, was met at the Cape Town station by a young girl with one of the soldiers who owned a truck, very dilapidated.

I sat with my suitcase in the back, rattling all the way to Goodwood.  My room was in the house behind the Hall, whitewashed brick wall, a hard single bed and some kind of wardrobe.  There was no bathroom, but an outside toilet and bathing would be a ‘stand-up’ job over a washbasin in my room.

It was very cold, with lots of rain in the Cape.  The Lieutenant wasn’t very good at cooking, so that was left to me.  We each paid half our allowance towards the food. 

Sometimes there was not enough in the Collection Plate to cover other household costs. Lights, water and a telephone had to be paid before anything else, so I had quite a runaround to find affordable things to eat.

On Sundays we conducted the morning service between us, one of us leading the sermon. Sometimes the Sergeant Major and his wife would invite us for Sunday lunch, always wonderful.  We would wolf it down with great gusto.

Then we would clean up and get ready for Sunday school, both of us teaching and trying to keep control of 30 or more children while their parents slept. No TV in those days! No sports either on Sundays. Then we would get ready for an Open Air Meeting in the streets, singing and testifying to the love of Jesus, collecting from those who gathered to listen. Rain or shine.

Then back to the Hall for a Prayer Meeting. After closing the Hall and God Blessing all, we would count the Collection to see if we would get an allowance. We spent all of our time visiting our flock, doing lessons by correspondence and preparing work for Sundays. 

Ursula was engaged to an up-and-coming young officer whose name was Gus Venter - he had such promise, he could preach and he was tall & good-looking.  Gus was appointed leader of about twenty young people and they were sent to England where they attended a Congress. He seemed to be of such faith. 

He had to have all his teeth removed at one point and refused false teeth for some time, testifying that the Lord would grow him another set! He didn’t get those teeth - if he had it would have been a miracle and we would all have heard about it!  He married Ursula and, both being very ‘holy folk’, but they later left the Army world and I have never heard of them again.

William and I saw each other for a short while once he was transferred to Cape Town. Rushed days off, borrowing a car from a friend when it rained, frustrating days, both needing each other.

William had an ear problem (mastoid) and was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t help him - he lived alone and in another part of Cape Town (right at opposite ends, in fact). So we asked permission to marry, but the ‘powers that be’ said ‘Wait’.

Below:
Charles & Gladys Luen with their children Hazel, Michael and Robert and the new baby Arthur Engelbrecht!

I needed my son and William needed me. In the end we went ahead and set a date for December 15^th (1955) and bought our rings. Three months before the wedding William entered a dilapidated hospital for his big operation and I found I was one month pregnant.

What to do..! We felt alone, with no one to confide in, no place to hide, so we just kept quiet and went along with our lives. Then, in December, we both got to go home and get married.

We were both too afraid to speak to anyone - who would understand that we were in love and needed each other. We thought we would be banished, stupid kids that we were. Everyone would know sooner or later.

We were having a beautiful honeymoon at the Wilderness Hotel in George. I was sick all the time and couldn’t enjoy the wonderful food. But - we were together and soon would have our son and a new baby, so ‘blow you’ to the world.

We were appointed to a small church in Cape Town and did our best. It was a poor community and often there wasn’t enough for our allowance.  Arthur Junior was with us he would get tonsillitis and we had to get to a doctor. We were all strangers together, but eventually things sorted themselves out.

Until we were moved again to Johannesburg.  Right under the noses of HQ (Salvation Army Headquarters) I grew bigger and felt sicker, while trying to get along with my new husband, with a sick child and a new church.

We were so ill equipped for it, but we struggled on trying to make the best of things. I attended an antenatal clinic in Johannesburg, waiting with hundreds of other Mums each month for examinations while William and Arthur waited outside in the Bus Station.

At last I wrote and told my Mum when the baby would be due and asked her if she would come to look after us. I was to have a ‘home birth.’ 

So Mum and Robert arrived by train on the 21^st June (they also witnessed a man being murdered on that train!).  William met them at the station to tell them that my labour was in full swing. 

I gave birth to our darling Brenda (8.5lbs). Within an hour of her arrival the fun really started.

The Early Army Years

People from HQ started arriving. We were disgraced. We were allowed two weeks to clean and move house, stripped of our rank and dispatched to Grahamstown to open an Old Age Home.  It was a beautiful old house with hundreds of roses … and snakes.

Here we were expected to run the show, knowing nothing of old people.  No funds - we only knew how to cook (well, I did). I also had to look after two babies, twelve old people and a husband who felt the need, twice a week, to go and play tennis!

Our quarters were a huge bedroom and a bathroom.  After some months, they appointed a Matron, a big, buxom woman who ordered us (or me, at least) about.  It was so trying. We had bought a small Hoover Washing Machine with some of our wedding gifts and I used that every day. I cleaned and washed and looked after babies.

After some time we were moved again, this time to another small farming place called Queenstown. 

We moved into a huge, cold, old house with five rooms and high ceilings, a coal stove and a big garden where we kept chickens.  We also planted rows and rows of potatoes in that garden.

While we were doing the church work in Queenstown, we only had a small congregation, so often there was not enough on the collection plate to pay our lights & water, or get our allowance.  

William would have to collect money in the neighbouring village to keep the work going; often getting lifts on the back of a truck to get to those places as we didn’t have a car or bike.

One day while he was out, a young man knocked on the door. He asked if he could come in and share his testimony with us. I explained that my husband was out and that I was expecting him back.

He told me that he had just been converted. He had been on drugs and had been living in the bush, eating a kind of spinach that the local black people ate, but God had spoken to him and he had since given up his bad ways, got himself cleaned-up and started work as a Sales Rep.

So that he didn’t ‘backslide’, whenever he got into a town he would look up a minister and, in sharing his faith, kept away from the temptations.  He had called a taxi and asked the driver to take him to a minister, which is how he arrived at our door.

He stayed for supper as I had made some Macaroni Cheese.  He loved it and ever after that, whenever he visited Queenstown I always had him over for Macaroni Cheese. We became good friends.  His brother was a chicken farmer in Bloemfontein and one day crate of baby chickens arrived for us, from the brother.  

We kept them in the office in a huge cardboard box, with a red infrared light on all day & night to keep them warm.  Gerry Mus became a pastor in his time and today his son is also a pastor.   We often wondered what would have happened if we had turned that young man away that day.

We had to do all our visiting and pastoring on foot as we didn’t own a car, but just before we were transferred again, to Bloemfontein, we put down a deposit on grey, two-door, second-hand Morris Minor.

We went without all kinds of things to raise the money.  

One member of our congregation was a short, round man who was a butcher.  He had a wife and five children.  

When he felt close to the Lord he would kindly send us a parcel of meat, but we had no fridge in those days so we had to eat the meat quickly before it went bad, or give some away to needy folk like us.

But when this man ‘fell off the wagon’, we wouldn’t see him or his children at Sunday school for weeks. We would go to visit them but he wouldn’t open the door.  Then one night he would phone, or send one of his kids with a note to say: “please come and see me.” 

William would go around and spend time talking to him and praying with him until the poor man got the victory.  The following Monday, the meat parcel would arrive again.  I often wonder what happened to that man and his family.

After twelve months we were appointed to Bloemfontein, to a tiny house squeezed between a butcher and a ‘native herb’ shop, a block of tall office buildings and a fish shop. On the corner was a Bus stop. There were always hundreds of black folk waiting for their busses (it was still segregated at that time).

We had three small rooms, hardly any furniture and a big, old coal stove that took forever to light and keep clean!  Outside in the yard was a bathroom (with a kind of geyser that nearly blew up when lit) and a rough toilet that worked - sometimes!  The place was freezing in winter and hot as hell in summer.   

There was linoleum on the floor, which was always covered in soot from the railway down the road and iron bars on the windows.  We had a small congregation that was going nowhere. It was like preaching to the wind, yet I learned later that at least one girl was saved.  

She is a grown woman now and spent her life for Christ and still to this day sends me Christmas Cards.  I didn’t know at the time, I only found out years later when she told me: “you led me to the Lord.”

We were very unhappy in that place because of the conditions, but also I had fallen pregnant again with my third child.   I was constantly sick and all the smells around us didn’t help either!  Then one day we got our marching orders again, this time to Claremont in the Western Cape.

I wasn’t well, had the Flu, Sinusitis and Morning Sickness, but we packed up our miserable belongings, took our last bath in that awful place - and left.

Young Children

This new appointment was amongst the coloured people of the Cape and once again we had awful quarters, above the church hall. It had two tiny bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a small study and a small bathroom (at least it was inside!).  

In order to dry our washing there was a line on a pulley system, hung outside the bathroom.  And to get to the flat required walking up & down a staircase with twenty-two steps.

However, the people were wonderful. There was a band and a choir, a singing company of children, boy scouts, girl guides, Bible studies, Committees for this & that - everything was Go, Go, Go!

At our welcome meeting some of the local folk came up to me and said: “I knew your Daddy on the island,” as Dad had been stationed on the island of St. Helena during the last part of the war. He had attended church with these people and even had meals with them in their homes.

So, I felt accepted there, William and I both. We had a wonderful three years there and our daughter Colleen was born in Cape Town, a 10lbs baby.  I got well there. People fed us and we started to receive our Allowance. We thrived there. It was the happiest days of our lives.  

Our son Arthur (right, with his sister Brenda and Mum Joan) first went to school there and we had all kinds of wonderful experiences that would affect the rest of our lives – ‘for ever’!

William had a friend called Gethen; they grew up together as boys.  He later became an architect, married and settled in the Cape.

He had a wife Mary, a daughter called Carol and a son named Colin (see here, left). 

The children were just little, not yet in school, when he brought them to visit us on a Friday evening.  

By the Monday he had died of Polio. He was only about 27 years old. 

When we moved from Cape Town we didn’t hear from his wife Mary.


But, years later, when Arthur was completing his Military Service in the Navy, het met up again with his childhood friend Carol and they went on to get married and she became my daughter-in-law.

Sadly, we were later moved again from Cape Town to East London, to another huge house with big rooms and even a Banana tree!  Here we had two churches to run and I was pushing a pram six kilometres and back to a poor community.

There were dogs that wandered in & out of the Hall, which was full of bare benches and poor, needy people, mostly afflicted with drinking problems.  I don’t think we made much of an impression, once again struggling to make ends meet.  It was such a disappointment after Claremont.

Durban

Next we were appointed to Durban where, on our first night, we found that the place was infested with bugs! We had to spend a day out while the place was fumigated. 

The children were always sick there.  Arthur had his tonsils out in East London.  That was the biggest burden for me. I kept thinking he was going to die.  He was such a lovely child; I loved him with all my heart.  He will never know how much I loved him. He was part of my youth, my first love.

Now in the hot weather in Durban, he would get these awful mosquito bites that turned septic and needed antibiotics. Brenda also got these on her pretty little body.

Colleen, who had been ill in Cape Town with Whooping Cough, also got sores and tonsil problems. I suffered every moment with our children, running back & forth to Hospital Clinics with those poor kids, while also trying to help with the church work, taking turns on Sundays to give out the Word.

Sunday school and Women’s meetings, running back & forth, it was all too much, only the Lord giving us grace. The church house was at the back of ‘Ye Old Playhouse,’ which is still there today. 

Film shows were held each night at 11pm and when the show was over the people would emerge out of the Theatre right under our bedroom windows, laughing, talking, moving cars, etc.  We couldn’t get to sleep until those doors were shut and the last people gone.

But at Christmas, or during holidays, a couple of black boys would sit underneath our windows with a penny whistle playing: ‘Never on a Sunday’ over and over and over, collecting money for their efforts. It nearly drove us mad, especially if we had to conduct meetings the next day.

Colleen had to have her tonsils out while we were there and she wasn’t a happy child.  We had to leave this beautiful child in the hospital for two nights while she cried non-stop. She was so afraid, as was I, that we would lose her.

When we went to get her home we found her wandering along the corridors of the Hospital, no shoes on her feet and only an open gown. No pants, nothing.  I was so fed up - I took her home straight away.

I’ve always been worried about my children, even today if they tell me they have a cold or anything, I just feel for them.

Just as well we only had three! A-B-C (Arthur, Brenda & Colleen)

While we stationed in Durban we met the mother of the famous South African Country & Western star Gene Rockwell, as she attended the Salvation Army meetings.

Her son Gene was crippled, but very talented and owed some of his talent to the Salvation Army. 

Mrs. Sarah Hamilton, a very rich lady and Army member would fetch and carry young Gene to Sunday school and also helped his mother financially.

Gene’s mother was a strange lady who wore a wig and loved to dress flamboyantly. William was afraid of her as he felt she would ‘come on to him.’ 

She would often phone at night wanting advice and inviting him to visit her.

He would never go alone though, always took the children and me along with him.  I wonder what happened to her.

William fell ill in Durban and had to have an operation.  We also had the dearest little dog there too, but unfortunately his was run over and killed. 

We bought our first caravan in Durban. It was a rather ‘broken down’ affair, but William worked on it, put in a new floor, made repairs and soon it was beautiful.  

We went on lots of holidays in it and used to take his Mum with us. She would sleep in the attached tent but made William mad with her constant cleaning.

Oh, she loved to be with us though and would often go for swims. She wore an old costume and was rather fat, so much so that Brenda told her one day: “you know - Nanas shouldn’t wear bathing costumes.” 

Arthur said she looked like the cartoon ‘Florrie’. She took it all in good spirit and continued to swim.

Thinking of Mrs. Hamilton, known as Aunty Clara to the children, she owned two big posh houses in Durban, amongst other properties. She also had an overweight sausage dog and a ‘House Boy’ by the name of ‘Sixpence’ to cook for her. Once in a while Clara would invite between six and twelve children to Sunday lunch and then to stay on in the afternoon for Sunday school. The kids loved this and were always eager to stay.

From Durban we went to Johannesburg to the Young Men’s Hostel.

Johannesburg

This was a different kind of work. There were three rooms - quarters - for us, but also rooms for 60 young, male students. Mostly we took care of them, fed them, did their washing, cleaned their rooms & bedding, listened to their woes and fixed-up their wounds, financial and spiritual.

I used to walk around 6km to the butcher on a Monday morning and carry home a ‘hind quarter’ of meat for the week. Then I would instruct the cook and run the home while William did the administration.

From there we were sent to a Girls’ Home - a home for girls from broken families. We had no training for this work, but leaned as we went along. There were between 50 & 60 girls, aged from 6-months to 18 years. We could write a book on what we experienced…!

However, we had our own three precious children to care for and often were so busy looking after the needs of the girls we were looking after that we felt we were neglecting our own children.

One day William arrived with a six-month old baby girl, badly neglected, not even wearing a nappy on her sore bottom.  We cared for her until other arrangements could be made. What could we do but take her in?  I had to go and buy a feeding bottle, as well as baby milk and food, clothes, ointment for her bottom - and then still run the home with another baby on my hip  (we had no pram).

Also, the girls in our care were up to all sorts of tricks. Smoking was a great sin and I often found three or four girls, supposed to be taking a shower, but instead had found a place to smoke.  

At one time we thought that, to cure them of the habit, we would give them a whole packet and let them smoke it all, thinking it would make them sick and they would never smoke again.  But this didn’t work, as they were already hardy smokers!

One day we rang the bell for supper and got them all sorted, but I noticed that one child was missing.  I went in search of her and found that she had fallen from a big tree in the garden.  She was unconscious, so we called the ambulance.

They took her to hospital and I went with her. The doctor said that she had damaged her kidneys and they would need to be mended.  Her parents were separating, but we called them up.

The operation was successful, but it was so sad to see that little girl so ill, with her parents on either side of her bed, not talking to each other.  They did eventually resolve their differences and took back their child, but how sad that it took such a thing to bring them to their senses.

We were unhappy in this appointment but we worked hard with so many children and few staff. I left home at 8am and often didn't get home until all the girls had gone to bed. We had an intercom installed from the home to our house and we were often called out at night.  We felt guilty though, not giving enough time to our own children, but equally not having enough time to look after the needs of all the girls.

It was all too much to handle, to do homework with the kids, run back & forth to Dentists & Clinics, as well as Court Hearings and dealing with Social Workers who expected the impossible - then to do our own children’s homework, cooking, washing, ironing and cleaning.

The Linden Boys Home

But William and I were a team; together we got through it with God’s grace.  Then we were moved again, this time to a Boy’s Home.  There were 110 boys between the ages of five and 18 years old.

We didn’t ask why, we just felt it was God’s move.  The previous Matron and Superintendent stayed with us for ten days trying to impart as much as possible on how to run the Home.

It was never enough. It didn’t make sense, but we were young, strong and fearless. If only we had known …!

Our three children Arthur, Brenda and Colleen all started in the Primary School in that part of Johannesburg - Linden.  

Colleen was starting school for the first time and cried every day we took her to school, but there were other little boys going to school for the first time too.

So much going on, there were five different schools - English High school & primary school, Afrikaans High school and primary school and a special school for those with special needs. 

Those boys called themselves ‘thick, dumb and stupid’. 

They had a big bus that was parked on our grounds, which took the boys and picked-up other children from private homes along the way.

Our institution had only one ‘Combie’ (Volkswagen people-carrier), which William drove and, when it rained, he had to make so many trips backwards & forwards to get the children to & from school as none of them had raincoats. It took forever.

After getting that lot dressed in school uniforms, one couldn’t find his tie, another missing a sock; others wet their beds at night and needing clean clothes. 

Then to see that everyone had lunch, homework done, notes to come out of school early if they had a doctor or dentist’s appointment.

For all of these appointments William would drive into town and I would sit with them at their appointments.  And everything had to be done at home - clothes changed, mended, shoes in order or new ones bought; food to be organized & ordered; lifting 100Kg bags of flour, sugar or rice and dividing it all out every day.

Our help came from ten black staff, three ladies in the Laundry, a cook, a gardener and at least two others to do cleaning.  In South Africa in those days black people could not work legally without ‘Passes’ (known as the ‘Dompas’ by the black people themselves).

These passes took months to organise, so many members of staff were often left without the proper documentation. The police would raid their rooms at night, often followed by them dragging the poor souls away to prison. So, in the morning, William and I would be left alone to cater to all these children and do all the other work where a member of staff was not available.

I cry now when I think of it and how desperate it all was.  

We were so sorry for the good black people who were only trying to do a job and earn a living - and for ourselves trying to do an impossible job.

We were desperately trying to care - and I mean really care - for these children, who had already suffered enough as it was. 

We had boys who had witnessed their father kill the mother with a screwdriver; boys who had never slept in a bed before; boys who had been starved, beaten and neglected in all kinds of ways and we were trying to teach them about love, cleanliness and order. 

At Christmas we put on a big party for them with cold meats, chicken, salads and I would order special cream cakes, sweets, Christmas Crackers, funny hats and a gift for each boy. It took us a day just to set the tables up and to dress the tree; get all the boys showered and into their Sunday (best) clothes.

We had a long driveway with trees lining either side and the boys would line up on either side of the drive as the Mayor would arrive in his posh big car, with the Mayoress wearing an Orchid flower.

Colleen, who was only seven or eight years old decided she wanted to be the Mayoress one day as she wanted to wear a flower like that! 

Anyway, on Christmas Eve one year there was a huge storm and some of the trees were blown-over across the driveway. I guess they were old. But, we had to clear the road for the Mayor to drive down the next day. So William hired a ‘two-way’ saw and he and some of the bigger boys spent all day cutting and cleaning the driveway.

Unfortunately the saw went ‘haywire’ and hit William on the nose, so he ended up with a black and swollen nose. That night when we went to be, exhausted, I said something to William. He turned his head and connected his nose with my eye.  Next morning, the day the Mayor was visiting, I was sporting a black eye and William a bad-looking nose!

Below:

A Luen Family Reunion around the time Joan & William were managing the Linden Boys Home.  The reunion happened in Graaff Reinet, the home of Charles and Gladys.

From left-to-right, back row: Robert, Michael, Jenny (Michael's wife), Ron (Hazel's husband), Brenda and William:
2nd row: Lyn (Robert's wife), Joan, Charles & Gladys, Colleen, Hazel and Michael (Hazel's son);
Bottom row: Kathy (Michael's daughter), Lynn (Hazel's daughter) and Jackie (Michael's daughter)

Another time the boys had something going with pigeons.  They took them to school and sold them, but by evening all the birds had flown back home and so next day they sold them again!

William decided we should be teaching the boys to look after the birds, so we got a farmer to donate some chickens.  They duly arrived at suppertime so, while it was getting dark, William and the boys were trying to make a Chicken Coop (or 'Hok' in Afrikaans). It was hard as the birds just wanted to roost!

However this proved to be very good.  The boys then had duties to feed and water them and, although they never laid any eggs, we felt it was educational - until the holidays when everyone went away when it became a bit ‘hit & miss’.

The result was that they became a bit scraggy and when the boys came back to the Home, they had lost interest.  We asked the farmer’s advice and he said: “cook them.” So we got the big boys from the special needs school to ‘do the necessary’.

The cooking was awful - no matter how long we cooked them for, they remained so tough.  One boy wrote home to his brother saying: “you know those chickens we had? They all got sick and died and Matron made us eat them…!”

During this time we also made great friends with a Doctor and Mrs. Walker. My daughter Brenda (seen right with brother Arthur and sister Colleen) and her good friend Linda spent some of their holidays helping the doctor with medical research. 

He and his wife were both very small people, white-haired, like two gnomes.  They were lovely Christians and they did a lot of valuable research.  One day Dr. Walker asked William if they could come and do an ECG on the boys.

Most people know that this is quite harmless, but to practice on 110 boys at one time would be helpful and he offered 50 cents (a princely sum at the time) to each boy if they agreed to take part.  They all did.

One boy was found to have a heart problem that was then taken-care of, which was lovely.  Later the doctor came back with a new challenge. It was known that white people were more prone to heart problems because of their diet. As black people had started to eat the same as the whites, they too started to see an increase in heart problems.

The doctors therefore needed to do some tests.  Mrs. Walker had prepared some biscuits made with grain and each boy was given one to eat at breakfast (for the same payment of 50c).  They were also given a small box, into which they were required to place a sample of their stool, which was collected when the went to the toilet once returning from school.

William and I had to write on each box the time of the deposit and other details. Soon we had all their boxes, not smelling too good, so we wondered where to keep this lot until 5pm, when the doctor was returning to collect them.  The only safe place was the Chapel!  It later transpired that this exercise turned out to be of great advantage to medical science.

We hear from some of these boys today, grown men with families, some divorced but living their lives. We did what we could for eleven years. No one will know what it cost us.

I had an operation while there, an ovarian cyst. The doctor said he had never seen anything like it, as it was about the size of half a brick! I only took four days off from work.  That thing had worried me for over a year but I just kept hoping it would go away.

After that I got myself into shape and di some walking, dieted and lost 30Kg. I was so proud of myself and kept fairly fit until we were appointed to Headquarters (HQ).

Headquarters (HQ)

William and I then had a number of jobs.  Among the various jobs we had William was Special Efforts Secretary and we also ran the Salvation Army Conference Centre some miles out of town. 

Whenever there were any Army Conferences, we did the catering, which meant shopping, cooking, making-up beds, cleaning, etc. for at least 60 people at a time.

There was a big, coal stove, difficult to get going, but wonderful to cook Roasts in when it was hot.  The scones, soups, porridge, cakes & puddings that came out of the stove - ‘had to be seen to be believed’ (or eaten?).

But all this work affected my right knee and soon I needed another operation, for knee cartilage. It was most painful and I still feel the results today.  I was off work for one whole week with that.  It doesn’t do much good, but I tell young people today to take more care of their bodies.  You only get one and in later life you feel the results. I thought I was invincible, strong - and I was then.

After our stay in Johannesburg Colleen finished her Matric and we were so proud of her.  She was a beautiful baby, a special child.  

It had been hard for her to travel each day, for a whole year, from one side of Johannesburg to the other, taking two busses each way, there and back again, sometimes getting caught in a downpour of rain (as it can only rain in Johannesburg), or in the bitter cold of winter; and often being left alone while we were away running conferences. 

It worried me, but it was only years later that she told me of the loneliness in those days. I am full of regret about this now.  If we had the money, we could have sent her to University, but for all that, she has done really well with her life.

I just wish more for her though. God loves her and will take care of her.  I know this because we gave her back to God when she was just 10 days old, as we gave all our children back into God’s care.  

She lives in Cape Town these days, but we are still very close. I can almost hear what she is thinking. I want her to have a good life, but my greatest wish is that she would give her whole life back into God’s hands, then she would know real peace.

Back in Cape Town

After being at HQ for some time, we were posted to the Cape Town Men’s Home for some reason, away from our friends and family and all we had grown used to. 

Right:

'Beth Rogelim', the Men's Home in Cape Town (seen right), is situated at the base of one of Cape Town's famous 'unfinished highways'.

Here we were to look after some 40 to 50 ‘lost’ men. Those who had seen and done everything that a bad person can do!  We really tried to get them saved, but ‘the Devil was well settled there’. 

We tried getting them to work, stop drinking and taking drugs.  Some were on disability and had to be taken to Hospital every month for pills to help them to cope with their lives.  It was no fun being shut-in inside a bus, with 16 guys all smelly and dirty, for an hour each way, never knowing whether a fight or a fit might break out. 

One guy thought he was a woman and dressed as one.  Another guy came asking me for clothes on one occasion as he was going for an interview the following day. So I took him to a room where we kept the clothes and amongst them was a white suit.

He wanted that suit, so I fixed him up with his white suit, shoes, hat - he looked like a Mafia boss! But, he was happy and I wished him Good Luck.  Next evening at supper I asked how the interview went and, with a smile on his face he said: “Great Matron, I got the job.”

“Oh, great,” I said, “what will you be doing?”

“I’ll be riding a Hearse,” he said.  A funeral car…!  He kept the job for some weeks, but each time he had a break, he would park the Hearse outside the Hostel, sometimes even with a body inside it. Eventually I had to tell him to stop doing that, because it made the neighbours nervous.

I could tell so many stories about our stay there, but they are not pleasant memories.  

My Children

We missed our children and friends and while we were there my son Arthur (seen here on the right, when he was still a teenager in Johannesburg) and wife Carol left the country for the USA.

My heart was broken. We couldn’t even see them to say goodbye. 

They had their first son Dale and we missed being able to be grandparents.  We missed our boy - would we ever see him again? 

How would they manage in a strange new country with no money, no family?

Arthur had become a pilot, so we were proud of him, but afraid for him. It was like hell for me to be so far away.  

By then the Army had moved us again, asking us to run a Salvation Army Hotel by the sea in ‘Fish Hoek’ (Fish Corner), near Cape Town, known as the 'Calder's Kings Residence'.

We went gladly, not knowing what lay ahead, but the Lord was with us and we learnt as we went ahead.  We loved being near the sea, but the work was hard.  I had to learn how to run a hotel, with no teacher.  After a few months we managed to have it in hand, so much so that people were starting to make bookings up to two years in advance!

We started Morning Prayers in a room that had previously been used for smokers and card players. It was an exciting, if hard, time, but we loved it.  Colleen moved to Cape Town too, but got her own flat. Still, we saw her often and Brenda, her husband Hans and their family came for holidays.

Then Colleen got married to a young man we didn’t know, but our instincts told us that he was not the right partner for her.  She was a beautiful, kind woman. She needed someone strong. 

Well, we gave them a lovely wedding. The newspapers chose her for ‘Bride of the Month,’ but she wasn’t happy and they divorced fairly soon thereafter.  This sadness, on top of Arthur and his family, seemed too much to bear.

To see your children in pain and not being able to ‘put them back together’ and make it all better, was very hard.  

Colleen had taken over Basey, Arthur & Carol’s little dog. 

That little dog lived a long time and we all loved him, but Colleen did more for that dog than anyone.

We loved that child but felt helpless because we wanted so much for her.  

I pray a lot for her and I’m convinced God has a special place for her.

Colleen later met Jim, a lovely lad who originates from England. He is a wonderful man and they make a lovely couple. 

He is strong enough for her and they both love each other, as well as their menagerie of animals.  

They live in Cape Town now, in a lovely house in Tableview.

Brenda & Hans

Whenever I hear from my daughter Brenda, I am always glad to hear her voice.  

She makes me laugh; she makes me cry - and even in her late fifties, she is still a beautiful woman and a beautiful human being.

Hans is her dear husband and has always been a son to us.

They met in Johannesburg, Hans was a solemn young Afrikaaner who had experienced a very traumatic childhood and he quickly became attached to us, as we to him - he became part of the family.

Hans, sometimes known as ‘Jukkels’ by other members of the family, had taken young Brenda to their first church meeting and, on their arrival and all flustered, he introduced her to his friends but forgot her name! She has not let him forget that!

Hans trained as a designer and early photographs show him poring over his large drawing board, carefully plotting measurements and angles.  

Later he set up his own Construction business, which has supported Brenda and their family since then, eldest son Barry, younger son Paul and daughter Hannah.

Hans has always ‘worked hard’, but was often out of town on business, or on a job. Once young and slim, they have, like all of us, suffered the ravages of time and the mysteries of the Lord’s decisions.

Eldest son Barry married the beautiful Kelly, who we all love and they produced a son Caleb.  

Unfortunately God, in his wisdom, decided to take Barry back just six months before Caleb was born, the same year that I lost William.  

It was a very, very difficult time.

Paul now works with his Dad Hans and the business is growing. 

Some years ago, when I was first writing this Memoir, Paul one day said to me: "Nanna, where will I find a virtuous woman today?" ... "Ask God" I said. 

... and God answered his prayer!  Paul has since met and will soon be marrying the lovely Kyra and they have just celebrated the first birthday of their beautiful daughter Bailey.  

They will move into their new house shortly as well.

How I love these grandchildren.  They are beautiful to look at and, in their own ways, each one has so much talent.  I am reminded of a time when Paul was about six or seven years old.  He was watching William shaving with his electric shaver.

After a minute or so, he said to William: "Grandpa, who gets your shaver when you die?"  Unfortunately the shaver died first!

And Hannah, sweet, virtuous Hannah, lives in a small cottage on the property with Brenda and Hans (and her Nanna) and she continues to build a career as a school teacher, like her mother who still oversees after-school care at a local Christian school for young children.

Hannah is seen here, left, with her cousin Dale, Arthur's son, when he visited South Africa from Florida some years ago.

Hannah is like her mother, a lovely, kind person and a very loving grandchild. She is also headstrong and knows her own mind. Like me I suppose!  Here she is with William and I when we had a visit from Michael.

This being a grandmother is not all its cracked-up to be sometimes.  You look back on your own life and wish you could change so may things.  We do so many things in ignorance and we only learn things the hard way.

I remember Mrs. Colonel Miller, a great Salvation Army Preacher, saying that she had asked God why so many beautiful young men died in the wars and she heard God say: "Man will not learn any other way!" I have never forgotten that. It hurts to learn - pain like no other.

As I was writing this about the young children, I remembered a poem that my Dad (Grandpa, Charles Luen) wrote about “Feeling Old”.

Hans and Brenda have lived good, Christian lives. They have experienced deep waters together though.  A few years ago one of Hans’ workers was killed after a wall fell down on top of him. 

He was a 44-year old man who had worked with Hans for years. So there had to be an investigation and work stopped, while the workers still needed to be paid.

Hans took the man in his coffin, with a load of his workers and the man’s friends, on the back of his truck and drove all the way into the countryside to the man’s village.  He took him back home for the Funeral.

These poor people cleared out a hut especially for Hans and he was the ‘Guest of Honour’ at the man’s funeral.

So much has happened to these two, Hans and Brenda, at home and at work, but they trust in the Lord to bring them through.  

I am so proud of the way Brenda and Hans trust God the way they do - a living testimony.  I learn from them all the time.

Below:
Hazel's son Michael and his wife Julia live in Windsor in the United Kingdom.  Michael and Brenda are particularly close and they visit us whenever they are in Johannesburg.  Seen here, while William was still with us, we all celebrated a visit by enjoying a Seafood feast at the Ocean Basket in Randburg.

Top row, left-to-right, Hannah, Julia, Brenda & Hans;  Seated: William, Joan & Michael

There had been six kids in my family and, in our home growing-up with Dad away fighting the war, each night Mummy would hear our prayers. “God bless Daddy, Mummy, Joan, Laurie, Hazel, Olive, Michael and Robert. Keep us safe and make us good.” … and anything else that came to mind!

Olive died at four years old, Laurie was killed on that motorcycle, but those remaining children remained close.  Even today, we still maintain contact by writing letters, or phoning one another, no matter in the world we are.

I believe that Family is the thing that keeps you together when times get tough.  How blessed we are to have Family.

Aston Bay and William & Joan's Retirement

After William and I finished our time at the Hotel in Fish Hoek, it was time for us to slow down and spend some time focusing on our selves - and our service to the Salvation Army would take on a slightly different tone.

I mentioned before that when Arthur died, I inherited two pieces of land. During our time together William and I had sold one property to raise some funds. Later, we were fortunate enough to 'swap' the remaining piece of land for a lovely cottage in Aston Bay.

This cottage had proved to be a Godsend. We spent holidays there with the family and also rented it out when we were not around, which meant that it’s costs were covered. 

Unfortunately, on one occasion, the people who rented the property had somewhat abused it and it was in a sad state of repairs.  By that stage my sister Hazel and husband Ron had retired, also to a property in Aston Bay and Ron, helped by some of our other good friends in the village, replaced, repaired and decorated our little home.

So, when the day came for us to move our belongings into the house, it was all ‘spic & span’ and William and I settled into our new life. There was no Army church in Aston Bay, but we started to attend the local Presbyterian Church and both of us would assist with preaching and pastoral duties when required.

It was a quiet, relaxing place Aston Bay, save for when the children would all descend at Christmas time, Brenda & Hans and their family and sometimes Colleen and Jim.  The house was often bursting at the seams and we made some changes, turning the garage into an extra bedroom for example, so that we had additional space.

We spent time in our garden, growing vegetables and lovely flowers (the climate could be challenging what with howling wind, rainy winters and hot, hot summers!).

Over time we both experienced problems with our health. I struggled with various ailments and William too. 

He had suffered with Emphysema for several years, a horrible illness that attacks the lungs and makes it ever so difficult to breathe (despite him never having smoked in his life).

After a number of years and when it started to become really difficult (I was unable to drive, so getting William to hospital was often very traumatic and scary) and we also started to struggle financially.

So, after some discussion, it was agreed that Brenda and Hans would buy the property from us and use it for their family holidays, but we could stay on as long as we liked.  That lasted for a few years, but eventually William and I moved back to Johannesburg and into a ‘cottage’ built onto Brenda’s house (left, in my 'garden' in Johannesburg).

We were not there very long when William’s health really deteriorated and one day, as I sat with him, he coughed quietly and left me. ‘Promoted to Glory,’ as the Army folk say.

I must confess, I was angry and had harsh words with my Lord. But He seemed to say to me: “It’s not your time yet.  I still have plans for you.” And how much I have done since the, without my dear husband.

I have travelled to England to stay with my sister (twice) and even travelled to the United States to spend some time with my son Arthur and his family.  God still seems to have plans for me!

Charles & Gladys retirement

Mummy and Daddy lived well in Port Elizabeth as the five of us - Laurie, Hazel, Michael, Robert and I all moved out of home and got on with our lives.  

Dad did start his own business and, while they never made pots of money, they lived a comfortable life and a much better life than they would have if they had stayed in Luton.

Mummy started a Crèche in their house and for years her home was filled with the laughter and tears of young children. They even had an old ‘double-decker bus’ installed in the garden, with the lower level converted into a Play Room for the children.  

The upstairs level was converted into a ‘teenage pad’ for Michael, before he left home (there is a photograph of Robert later in these Memoirs - where the bus can be seen in the background).

Eventually Mummy’s health started to deteriorate, particularly her Asthma, and the doctor suggested that they move to a climate that was better suited to her needs - they chose to settle in a small town about two hours away from Port Elizabeth, Graaf Reinet.  Aside from a short period when they moved to Johannesburg (to be closer to Hazel and I) and back again, they remained in Graaf Reinet for the rest of their lives.  

Their little house was confortable (although often stuffed full of Mum’s hats - she was a Milliner and would create and sell fantastic hats and headpieces!)  Their garden was full of orange and lemon trees and the grandchildren would often be found in the garden picking fresh fruit and devouring them, with a little assistance from their Grandpa.

Charles had always been a committed member of the Salvation Army, from his earliest days in Belfast as a child and, even into his older years, was active with the Army, working with the bands (he played the cornet) and working within the community (seen here, above, proudly standing on the left).

Sadly in the early 1970’s Gladys passed away, not long after Dad had suffered quite a significant stroke.  He was left with quite severe disability on his one side, but battled back to regain some control again.

By this stage the house had been sold and Charles moved to a small cottage in a type of Retirement Village (seen here at his front door, right). 

Unfortunately his dog, by that stage his closest companion, ruffled feathers with his neighbours and, given the option ‘the dog or the cottage’, he chose the dog!

However, late in his life Charles discovered the tender cares of sixty-four year old, unmarried virgin, Hester, who still lived with her mother in an old house in the centre of Graaff Reinet.  The old lady was well into her nineties and spoke almost no English - she was a veteran of the Anglo-Boer War and had seen her home burnt down by the hated ‘Engelsmanne’, so she hated the English.

However, Charles’ tenderness and his smooth Irish tongue managed to turn her and she developed a great fondness for him. He was to become ‘her favourite’ until she died.

Hester loved our Dad and cared for him in his frail older years, nursing him and looking after him (her first and only love in all those years) until he too died and was buried in the Groote Kerk in the middle of Graaf Reinet (above).

Below: A few words from Charles Luen, in his own hand.

My Sister Hazel

We have almost been like twins, always think alike and do things the same way. We shared a double bed together when we were small, in an upstairs room with a window looking out onto our back garden.  It had a huge tree in it and an Anderson Air raid shelter.

We played together, dancing and singing and prancing around our room to songs like ‘Meet me in St. Louis’ from films we had seen, feeling like we did it better than the movie stars!

We love each other and stand up for each other. We are proud of one another.

Hazel went to Art school and has this great talent. She paints and draws pictures of anything that takes her fancy. 

She sews most beautifully and makes all her own clothes, as well as shirts for her husband, son & daughter.  

She makes the most beautiful quilts and crochets blankets. Many babies have been warmed and kept safe by the comfort of those pretty coloured, soft blankets. 

I think of the Scriptures, Proverbs 31, 10-31:

A good woman is hard to find and worth far more than diamonds;

Her husband trusts her without reserve and never has reason to regret it;

Never spiteful, she treats him generously
 all her life long;

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons and enjoys knitting and sewing;

She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
 and brings back exotic surprises;

She’s up before dawn, preparing breakfast
 for her family and organizing her day;

She looks over a field and buys it then, with money she’s put aside, plants a garden;

First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started;

She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day;

She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in homemaking;

She’s quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor;

She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows; their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear;

She makes her own clothing, and dresses in colorful linens and silks;


Her husband is greatly respected
 when he deliberates with the city fathers;

She designs gowns and sells them, brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops;

Her clothes are well made and elegant and she always faces tomorrow with a smile;

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say and she always says it kindly;

She keeps an eye on everyone in her household and keeps them all busy and productive;

Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise:

“Many women have done wonderful things, but you’ve outclassed them all!”

Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades;

The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God; Give her everything she deserves! Festoon her life with praises!

The message translation, this is my sister.  I love her with all my heart and I respect her.  There are so many memories of her, always in my heart.

We had another sister, Olive. She was younger than us, but she was a sickly child and died during the war years of Diphtheria. She was about four years old and I always remember her singing: “Somewhere, over the Rainbow.”

While she was ill Hazel and I were sent to Hove in England, to stay with Aunty Winnie, Mum’s eldest sister. She was married to a rich man we called Uncle Leslely, he was the Director of the London Glue & Gelatin Company.

He wore suits to work every day and travelled to London on the train. Aunty Winnie had a maid who was a ‘Seventh Day Adventist’ and didn’t work on Saturdays. She was an unhappy person.  Hazel and I were not happy there, although they were kind. 

In 2012 Hazel and her family arranged for me to fly to England and stay with her in Windsor.  That day so many years ago when Arthur and Laurie died in that smash, Hazel made me promise three times that I would continue to visit her.

Her husband Ron passed away just before Christmas 2011 after a long illness with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. She nursed him throughout those difficult years and, after her son moved them back to Windsor, she had no friends like she had in South Africa.

So I went, with God’s help, to exchange some old memories and spend some time with her.  She is a strong woman and still good-looking.  How wonderful that God blessed us in this way.

I visited her twice, for about six months each time and we had a lot of fun together, sharing memories, laughing, crying and swapping stories about our families, friends and people we had known together over the years.

One of these was a wonderful man called Peter Hill, a Salvation Army man who we had known when we first moved to South Africa. He was almost a boy at that stage, but now a grown man with children and grandchildren.

He is still an active Salvation Army member and plays in the band.  

One night just before Christmas, when Hazel's Ron was very ill, Peter arranged for a few of his fellow band members to stand outside Hazel's Lounge window (in the freezing December snow) and they played all sorts of Christmas songs for Hazel, Ron and Michael & Julia, who were also there at the time.  

What a kind man.

When I was visiting Peter also took time frequently to visit us for tea, or take the two of us out for a meal or for a drive in the countryside.  

On one occasion he took us through to central London to visit the Salvation Army Headquarters, a very impressive building (here, right, with Hazel).  

Also we visited the original home of General William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army.

Brother Michael

Michael (above, with Mummy, Dad and Hazel) was not the youngest child, but second youngest before Robert and the middle boy child.  While Robert was mischievous, rebellious and a ‘big’ character, Michael was the opposite - he was quiet and a soft, gentle soul.

Michael followed in Dad’s footsteps and worked alongside him as a Painter & Decorator. He was not a driven, ambitious man, but content to work hard at his job, build a family and live a good life.

In his younger days Michael was quite a good looking man, with jet-black hair and a lovely smile.  

He met Jennifer (Jenny, right, with my Mum & Michael) and they married and produced three lovely children Kathy, Jackie and Lawrence, named after his uncle.

Michael lived in his own house in Port Elizabeth and, for almost all his life after we arrived from England he never travelled far from home. East London or Graaf Reinet was as far as he ventured.

Later in life he found it difficult at work (South Africa was a very changed country to the one we originally moved to) and eventually he left his job at the Hospital where he had been in charge of the Maintenance and decoration for many years.

 

Although Jenny and Michael divorced, when she left, he remained in his house, living with daughter Kathy and her family and Michael was still part of the wider family, including Jenny, his son Lawrence and daughters Kathy and Jackie.

It was a special place for him and held memories of our parents and his children.  

The picture here, left, shows Michael with our Dad (in his later years, still in jersey and shorts!).

Towards the end of Michael’s life we would write frequently and speak on the phone often.  William, Hazel, Ron and I visited him a few times (see photo, below)

Hazel’s son Michael and his wife Julia visited Michael when they were on holiday from the United Kingdom. My brother was thrilled.

Sadly, he struggled with various illnesses in his later years (years of smoking had not helped him) and he passed away.  

We all miss him so, but it is heartening to see the children and grandchildren maintaining contact these days.  I hope these Memoirs will help with that too.  

A recent photograph of the Luen family in Port Elizabeth shows Michael's ex-wife, his three children and their children.

Brother Robert

Robert is my dear youngest brother.  I say a special prayer for him each morning. 

He has always been special; he was fair-haired, with blue eyes, but always mischievous.

Always adventurous, if there was ever trouble any place, we could be sure that he would be in the middle. He wasn’t bad; he just had a quick mind and was always ready to ‘try’ things.

He was my protector and stayed with me after Arthur junior was born. 

He helped to take care of Arthur while I was away at college and came to stay in our home in Durban, where he worked in a butcher shop.

In the time he stayed with us he never did anything wrong. Not that I knew about anyway!  I think he received a large dose of Dad’s ‘Irish blood’.  I really love him. We write to each other and speak often of the ways of the heart. He has a strong faith, but he is very quick with his tongue, like I am.  

However, he is thoughtful and kind. God gave him a good wife, although she is now battling with illness as Hazel’s husband Ron did.  Hazel is able to give Robert some comfort when they talk about the problems this causes.

Robert (seen with Hazel and Michael here, left, in South Africa in the 1970's) often phones from Australia. 

The Australian people haven’t been good to him as far as language is concerned, as he swears a lot, things I’m sure he didn’t learn in England or South Africa!

I pray that he “will bring his whole being to the Lord to cleanse,” as the Army song goes.

Robert has a son and a daughter, both with families of their own.  His son Simon suffered a stroke a few years ago, which has left him with significant difficulties. Robert still visits, but is left terribly distressed by watching his son (and his family) suffer so.

His daughter Robyn (right, with her Mum Lyn) is now a lovely woman and has a lovely family of her own.  She has recently been in contact with Hazel’s son Michael and is discovering members of her family that she had not known about.

Robert and Lyn lived for many years in quite an isolated part of Australia (they emigrated in the seventies after Robert had worked on the Carlton Hotel in Johannesburg - first helping to construct it, then working in the hotel’s kitchens as a butcher and later with the pastry chef!)

 As a result the family were not exposed to their cousins, nephews and nieces in South Africa and England, but that is changing now. Perhaps this Memoir will help a little too. I hope so.

                                                             ---oo0oo---

William Stevenson - A tribute

As I have said, we lost William in 2011.  

It was a bitter blow and hard for all of us.  With time however, it is possible to look back and see some of the little shards of light that helped us to cope with the pain.  Among these are some of the lovely tributes that were read out at William's Thanksgiving Service.

I shall end these Memoirs by including some of them, so that you too, dear reader, can be touched, as I was, by the heart-felt tributes from his family and friends.

Message from William's son Arthur Stevenson: 

“Saying Goodbye is never easy. Saying goodbye to a loving parent who had so much to do with forming one’s outlook and foundation makes it even harder.

Dad, my earliest memories of you are teaching me about caring for living creatures was when I, at about three or four years of age, was chasing sparrows with my trike. I must have got one or two because you chased after me with your favourite 18-inch ruler and taught me good.

You always treated Mom well, calling her ‘Chum’ and holding her so lovingly. From our earliest days you always made sure that we had an annual vacation to remember. That is a tough act to follow. During the year, you made sure we all had pocket money on a weekly basis. You were just so organized about everything you did. Your desk and the drawers were always as neat as a pin. Even reading and folding the newspaper was an exercise in organization. Crossword puzzles were your daily pleasure.

How many times do I remember joining you in your workshop as you were building a new rostrum, mercy seat or cupboard, for a Corps within your proximity. I would mess around with the off-cuts, trying to make something, just to be around you.  When you retired, you began building clocks, which many people have since come to own and enjoy. Your handiwork is everywhere and will be for some time to come.

You had a great interest in what Carol, myself, Dale, Nicole and Bradley were up to. Bradley remembered with affection the Bird House you lovingly built for him on a pole in our back yard. Dale often talks about staying with you in Aston Bay, when he was on a three-month long surfing trip in South Africa. Carol and Nicole enjoyed telling you about your grandchildren and great-grandchildren and you loved to listen. You always asked me about what, and where, I had been flying and we would have chats about that.

Enjoy your new life, where we will meet you again in the not too distant future. Time has a way of passing by too fast. There will be no more doors that slam to hurt your hearing through your hearing aid. So enjoy the peace and quiet, the angels singing - and whatever else we don’t know about.

We love you”.

                                                             ---oo0oo---

Message from William's daughter Colleen Stevenson:

“Thank you for being here today to celebrate my Dad’s life.

He was a good man, a good husband, a good father and a good friend to many. 

Above all, he was a good person and a good Christian.

It is not easy to think of all the things you would like to say to someone when they have gone, but I have found a poem and it pretty much expresses what I need to say today.  

It is called ‘The Gift’.”

The Gift

I will never say goodbye to you my Father, because I know this is not the end for us to see each other.

You will only be going to a place where there’s no pain, nor suffering.

I am happy for you, for you will be with God.

For now, we need to go in separate ways.

I remember how your arms would hold me and give me strength.

You were always there to listen, love and defend me in everything.

You were my very best friend.

In my triumphs, you were always proud.

In my suffering, you were always sad.

I’m very grateful and proud to call you my Dad.

How deep inside my heart you’ll always be.

I would give up everything I have just to hug you one more time.

I remember the last time I held your hand and how you looked at me in my eyes.

If only I could turn back the time, I would never have let you go.

I felt the world would stop and my heart stop beating when they told me you were gone…

How I wish I was only dreaming.

Just like the rain; tears fell down from my eyes, I couldn’t speak for a while.

Thank you Dad …

For always understanding, listening, caring and loving me.

                                                             ---oo0oo---

Message from William's grandson Paul Lombard

“First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today to help us celebrate William Henry Stevenson’s remarkably full life. Some have come from the Coast and others from Johannesburg and many places in between.

Many of you have spent a lot of time this week helping Joan and our family to cope with this loss and all your kind words and prayers are certainly appreciated. On behalf of everyone in our families, we thank you for your support and help.  We shall always remember your generosity in this time of difficulty.

William Henry Stevenson was many things to many people; a son, a brother, a father, a lover, an uncle, a grandfather, a role-model and a Major and he was respected and loved by each member of his family.  He had an enthusiasm for life and learning which seemed unquenchable and something I admired and have always strived to attain.

If William were here now, he would probably step up to the front and start one of his interesting sermons, filled with metaphors and life lessons, which you could use at any stage of your life.  You couldn’t keep him away from spreading the good news.

Some of my fondest memories are of going to church in Jeffrey’s Bay and watching ‘Gramps’ play the organ and then deliver some thought-provoking question. Everyone in his congregation would queue to shake his hand and thank him for his perspective on God’s love.

William would not want us to be sad, but to rejoice in the knowledge that he is with his Lord and Saviour, who he spent all his life serving.

Family and friends are the only people who truly have your best interest at heart when times are tough and Gramps was certainly at the top of the list and a ‘tough-love’ kinda guy when it came to guidance.  As a child I would battle to grasp his motives, but the underlying reason was always for the best interests of everyone involved.

He wanted the best quality of life for all his family, friends, children, foster-children, grandchildren, ‘children in Christ’ and anyone who knew him.  His sharp wit and crisp intelligence always gave an answer that was meaningful and impacted our lives.

Another aspirational characteristic that Gramps possessed was his determination, especially with his woodworking skills - to give the people he loveda piece of himself. Even when challenged by his emphysema, he would toil away for hours in his wooden shed, sawdust flying all over - making it absolutely perfect for someone in his ‘extended family.’

The joy that he would derive from giving a handcrafted gift was far superior to the discomfort he would suffer after the fact.  I shared his passion for working with my hands and have always enjoyed discussing practical projects with Gramps.

To think of the number his clocks that he gave as gifts, to family from around South Africa, and the world, for built-in cupboards, or prayer benches in congregations nation-wide, or the smaller task of re-surfacing his favourite porch, he was a leader, a doer, an initiator, an inspiration to many and he will be remembered for many decades to come.

December holidays were always a time for Gramps and I to spend most of the day discussing various sports, their uninspired captains and what we would do differently had we been there …

When he couldn’t sleep at night he would go and watch some telly and when I came home from a night out with my friends, we would pick up where we left off.

I will always truly admire the amount of knowledge that he contained and will strive to become more like him.

Gramps will be missed for many reasons, but mostly we will miss the benefits of the work he did in our lives, to change our lives for the better and to improve our relationship with God. He has left some rather substantial shoes to fill.

Thanks again for coming to help us celebrate William’s life.”

Remembrance

Remembrance is a golden chain

Death tries to break

But all in vain;

To have, to love and then to part

Is the greatest sorrow of one’s heart;

The years may wipe out many things

But some they wipe out never;

Like memories of those happy times

When we were all together.

                                                             ---oo0oo---

Message from William's brother Vernon Stevenson

“William was born in Pretoria to Henry and Trixie Stevenson. 

They moved to Johannesburg, where they lived until William went to the Salvation Army Training College for Officers. 

Prior to going into training, William was an assayer at the Village Deep Gold Mine.  

He attended Johannesburg 1 Corps from Sunday school, playing cornet in the ‘Y.P. Band’ - and into the Senior Corps, playing in the senior band.

In the early 1950’s he entered Training at the Intercessors session. His first appointment was as C.O. at the George Corps.  He also did service at the ‘War Cry’ before being married to Joan in 1955.  

Later appointments were at Claremont Corps, Firlands Boys Home and Calder’s Kings Residence in Fish Hoek.

William will be sadly missed by his loving wife Joan, son Arthur and daughters Brenda and Colleen and their respective families; and his brother Vernon and his family.”

                                                             ---oo0oo---

Message from the congregation of the Jeffrey's Bay Presbyterian Church

“It is difficult to separate Bill and Joan, as they were one - wherever Bill was, there you would almost always find Joan. They were inseparable.

They joined our small (in numbers) Jeffrey’s Bay Presbyterian congregation during March 1999 and, if my memory serves me right, they were ordained to the Eldership of the Uniting Presbyterian Church of South Africa on the 3^rd July 2005.

They were, and still are, a wonderful influence and challenge to us all, not only their preaching and teaching, but also their true friendship.  One always experienced their love and friendship whenever we were fortunate enough to be in their company.

Many were the times that we were invited to share their Sunday Lunch, which Joan had so meticulously prepared and Bill would often, especially in the earlier days, share a passage from ‘Our Daily Bread’. Two very special children of God that always made one not only feel welcome in their home, but also very special.

On a number of occasions Bill played the organ for our services and at all times we would have the pleasure of singing to the accompaniment of Bill playing on the Concertina.

As we know, Bill was very talented; fashioning beautiful clocks, repairing watches and he was responsible for making the beautiful cross that still hangs in the Church.  Bill was always able to come up with an appropriate joke, which was always well received by the Elders and Board members.

Due to failing health, Bill and Joan sadly had to leave Jeffrey’s Bay on the 11^th January 2010, to settle with Brenda and Hans.  Their departure has saddened us and left a vacuum that cannot be filled.

Bill, we will always treasure the memories of you and all the good times we shared. We miss you terribly, but rejoice that your dear soul is now in the care of our Lord.  We praise God for your life, testimony and your influence on so many lives.

You will always be in our thoughts.

Joan darling, I share with you a poem that I received from a very dear friend after Elaine’s death.”  May you all know His strength and grace at the service and, in the days that lie ahead.

Lots of love; from your friends and Congregation at the Jeffrey’s Bay Presbyterian Church.

Not dead - Oh no, but borne beyond the shadowsinto the full, clear light;Forever done with mist and cloud and tempest;where all is calm and bright.Not even sleeping - called to a glad awakeningin Heaven’s cloudless sky;Not still and moveless - stepped from earth’s rough placesto walk the King’s highway.Not silent - just passed out of our earthly hearingto sing Heaven’s sweet new song;Not lonely - dearly loved and dearly lovingamid the white-robed throng.But not forgetful - keeping fond remembranceof dear ones left awhile;And looking gladly to the bright reunionwith hand clasp and with smile.Oh no, not dead, but past all fear of dyingand with all suffering o’er;Say not that I am dead when Jesus calls meto live for evermore.

                                                             ---oo0oo---